Their Story
by webdlfan
Summary: A mixture of one shots from their wedding and on. Marked as complete because even as I add to it each one shot is complete on its own. Will continue to add to it as inspiration comes. Enjoy. D/L. This is their story.
1. Their Story

_I do not really own anything. All the characters belong to CBS and all of the appropriate people. Spoilers up through Season 5 episode 5x17. Takes place right after 5.17. Just a little play on words that came to me. Loosely connected to a previous story Penny Thoughts. You don't have to read that to get this, its just loosely references it.  
_

_By the way, Marshall is on Hiatus. I've got to get my feet back under me with the changes in cannon. I like to try and stay within the show. Sometimes.  
_

* * *

They would have taken a cab. They could have. They probably should have.

But Lindsay wanted a moment to walk, to enjoy the city, with her arm in his. She wanted to remember this day, in this city, and take it with her, she said.

Well, so did _he_.

"Funny how half an hour ago all you wanted to do was go home and pack so you could leave me. Now you don't mind taking your time."

She glanced up at him as she squeezed his arm. "So I could get back."

"You're going to leave me so you can get back …"

"The sooner I get there, the sooner I get home."

He chucked, managed to push back the sadness. It wasn't a day to be sad, he reminded himself. "I don't think it works that way."

"And years from now, you'll tell the story of how I left you the day after your wedding. Tell the story just like your uncle Linus … or your Uncle Clem … of how his wife forgot to bring her trunk with her to the wedding and they had to return to the parent's house that night? I heard it. I heard how the emphasis was on _her_."

She laughed and rested her head on his shoulder. Their pace had slowed. New York just moved around them. "It's what I was thinking—trying _not_ to think—while you were saying all those beautiful words."

"Wait—" he stopped mid stride. "You weren't even listening?"

"Oh, I was listening," she looked into his eyes as he turned her towards him. Her brown eyes were so engaging. She seemed so … soft, all of the sudden. His Lindsay.

So often over the last three years, he'd seen her fierce, he'd seen her brave, he'd seen her sad … and he'd seen her fun side, her laughter, and the brilliant twinkle in her eyes.

But he liked this soft side of love he saw in her now. He'd seen it recently, he'd watched it bloom. He'd begun to get used to it. He'd only had a few months to get used to it.

And now she was leaving him.

Leaving him the day after their wedding day.

"You didn't … don't feel boxed in?"

"Danny Messer," swatted him on his arm. Something Aiden would have done. Something that jarred him a little out of his self pity.

But it was Lindsay grinning at him. It was love he felt.

"You boxed me in the moment you walked through those court room doors back in Montana. Or maybe that's the moment I knew," she lifted a hand, slowly traced a gentle line down his cheek. "And I wasn't thinking I was boxed in. I was thinking that you'd managed to find a way to tell a big tale, with the bride at the center of the tale. And you'll probably forget your role that made it was all last minute. So you'll tell the story, like your uncle. Probably like your grandfather. And I thought … this was our story. We had our own wedding day story. It was going to be told around the poker table, and the family diner table. It's a little intimidating. It's a big deal."

He let her words settle with a warmth that was deeper and richer than anything he'd felt all day.

"And Danny…" her hand, still warm on his face, slid around and into his hair to pull him toward her. He slid, like warm butter, into the kiss. So gentle. So perfect.

"You are that man," she said softly as they parted. "I've known that a long time. I was listening. I have been."

She slid her arm back into his, and they slowly began to walk again. The day was growing cool again, but there was a warmth around them.

_Your mama had to leave me. Yeah, yeah—he would chuckle—she would spear him with a look. I _couldn't_ have left her the day after our wedding. But she left me. Just got on that plane, and left me alone. We didn't have a honeymoon. Not right away. _

_But it was still perfect. We still had that night. We soaked in the city that was ours. We walked the streets, because it was where we both belonged. _

_I'll never forget that day. Never forget the beauty on your mama's face. A beauty that made the big city simply melt away._

Yeah, he thought, drawing her closer. Maybe he wouldn't say all those words.

But they had their story.

* * *

Let me know what you think! :P


	2. Their Announcement: added 710

Their Announcement

A/N: I was at work this morning and had this idea for part of this idea on my list of "their ideas," so here it is :p. This falls in between Their Story and Their Goodbyes.

Disclaimer: No, these are not my characters and I wish we didn't have to work so hard to fill in so many blanks ... :p. However, use this post to cover when I forget to say it.

* * *

Lindsay walked back in the living area with her laptop. She stopped as Danny ended a call on her cell phone.

"Who was that?"

"No one," he sat down and watched as she walked over with the laptop open. "I just changed your message."

"What" Why?"

"To let anyone calling know the news and that you won't be answering the phone tonight."

"_Danny_," she admonished. She settled beside him on the sofa with a sigh, but she couldn't help but the grin.

"What?" he shrugged defensively, but he couldn't help the grin either. "If we're going to do this, we're going to ignore the phone calls the rest of the night. In fact—phones off, otherwise—"

She reached over and took his hand. "There's no otherwise. It's our night," she narrowed her gaze. "What did you say?"

"Nothing that will offend the family back home, _Montana_, just that we did get married and that we'll answer any calls tomorrow."

It wouldn't be so simple, but she let it pass. He was Danny ... and she did marry him after all. Besides, while he liked to annoy her at times for the fun of it, he wasn't one to embarrass himself intentionally.

"I'm all ready to go with my email. All I have to do is hit send," she passed him the laptop so he could open up a window for his own email account. As he logged in, she picked up her phone and pulled up the picture he'd sent from his phone. Stella had taken one at the court house, but this one they'd had a doorman take. He'd been standing outside one of the hotels near the Empire State Building. Their hands were joined, and held up for the camera to catch sight of both their rings. The Empire State Building rose in the background. The nice man had even stooped low to get the top of the building in the shot—and thankfully aimed toward her face instead of back with her belly taking up the frame.

She shook her head at her own thoughts and worked through the process to text the picture. There would be no words. They'd agreed to announce it their way. The picture would speak for itself.

Besides, it was so perfect that the Empire State Building had been right there when they'd stopped to take the picture-before the doorman offered, trying to get it captured themselves. For Lindsay, there was nothing more _New York_ than the building. And, sweetly enough, it had been that case when they had investigated the power surge surrounding the antennas, that he'd first asked her to marry him.

So it just seemed so right to tell everyone with a picture.

If her mom threatened to kill her because she'd left out both the details and the family, then the promise of the coming grandchild would more than buffer the threat.

"I've got Angell, Flack, Carol, Sid, Mrs. Hammerback, Leigh ... Hawkes, Scagnetti ..." she frowned and scrolled back up her contact list. "Mom, dad ..."

She broke off as those didn't need to be stated and clicked on other names that were not on his cell; her family and friends, her uncle in New York, and a number of her coworkers she'd spent more time with than he. As she worked, he finished setting up his email with the same photo, and started going through his contacts on his cell phone.

.ny.

"I got Adam," Danny went through his list of family and friends on his cell. He wasn't even sure all of them knew he was going to be a father. Sometimes the grapevine moved fast, other times, it hit a road block. Not all of his friends were in the old neighborhood or had family behind to get the news.

But he had a lot of people ... and a big family.

When he finished, he looked up to find her waiting.

"Ready Mrs. Messer?"

She grinned and it was infectious. Here she was ... _Montana._

_His_.

If there was a gooey core deep inside, it was taking over. She handed him her phone, he passed her the laptop.

"Ready," she said.

And as he said go, he hit send on both their cells. She clicked send in his email, then switched over to hers and repeated the command.

As their cell phones and emails delivered the photo, and returned a confirmation that the message was sent, Danny powered both off, then reached out and shut the lid on the laptop.

"Come here, Mrs. Messer," he said as he set the cells phones down on the coffee table.

Lindsay did the same with the laptop and slid over into his arms.

If anyone called in the next few minutes, they would get any one of the messages that he'd changed. Lindsay just might kill him later, but he'd taken great pride in using her new name and staking his claim.

For tonight, she was simply—and _only_—his.

.ny.

_Hi. You've reached Lindsay Messer's phone. She won't be answering your call tonight as tonight is our _wedding _night. Leave her a message. She'll have plenty of time to return your call once she's in Montana. Now, the phones are going off. She won't be checking her calls tonight. Thanks for calling._


	3. Their Goodbyes new: added 710

**Their Goodbye**

**So ... I've got a few ideas in a list to bring _this story _back. Thanks so much for the encouragement for "this" story. Man, its been a long time. I hope to get more up, but I have to write other things before I allow myself to write this again. Or that's the goal. :p I hope you enjoy this slice of "them." It's not in order ... if it was, it would take place between the original Their Story and Their Return. And there might be something more during Lindsay's time in Montana. Though three of the ideas on the list tripped over themselves and fell into this story by accident. So we'll see :P **

* * *

The taxi arrived nearly an hour and a half before they needed to leave. It was Danny's fault, but he claimed it was his _plan_. He'd been rushing her ever since waking her up that morning, running on his own nervous energy. He said he wasn't pushing her out the door, but seriously—she had her doubts. One would think he wanted her to leave. Unless you looked him in the eyes.

Watching him, Lindsay simply sighed. It was a new side to Danny—this fumbling, nervous, disoriented person she'd just married only a few hours ago. He'd already picked up her suitcase, carry-on and purse twice, dropped each once just crossing the room, and was now going through the process again.

He stopped and frowned when he stopped at the door and looked at his coat hanging on the peg.

"Danny—"

He set down the bags one at a time and spared her a glance. "What?"

"I'm the one going to Montana."

"You don't think I know that?" He took her coat off the hook, put it back, then—for whatever reason—stopped to check his pockets.

She chuckled, "No, I know you know that. I just wonder why you're the one who seems to have lost his bearings. I feel like you need a compass."

He let out a breath simply to laugh at himself as he shrugged into his coat. "I've gotten used to having you around."

"I'm coming home. Two weeks. That's all," she wrapped her arms around him and leaned in close, pleased when his instantly closed around her. They needed to just stay like this for awhile. "I'll miss you. Think about you every day. Every minute."

"You'll check in with the doctor? As soon as you arrive."

"As soon as I can get to the appointment. My mom made it a month ago, and they called for my file last week," she leaned back, lifted an eyebrow. "Then they all double and triple checked last week when you called. Both times."

He winced, "You weren't supposed to know about that."

"Kind of hard for my family not to share when the man I'm sharing my life with acts so funny."

"_Funny_."

"My mom adores you."

"So you say."

"See—there's that nervousness again. You're not the one going to Montana, Danny. _I am_. You're not dealing with my brothers all at the same time. That would be me. And you don't have to sit through Aunt Ida's baby shower while she touches my belly, encourages everyone to touch my belly, and tells all those things I really don't want to know, you certainly don't want to hear, and I really don't beleive about what she knows about pregnancy and raising children. Its her own little tradition. That makes you a lucky man."

"Just come home," he muttered, and picked up her bags again.

"Can you just hand me my purse—you don't have to carry everything. In fact, you don't have to carry anything or ..." she watched as he glanced around, distracted all over again as he took one step out the door and glanced back. "-rush. We have time. I'm not moving away from home. Just get me to the airport on time, Daddy."

"I got it. I'll meet you down at the taxi. It's waiting."

_No kidding._ If there was a moment that she saw her father in Danny it was now. Strong, capable, able ... and oddly out of character just because she was going on a trip. Of course for her father it had only happened when she'd gone to college, then later when she moved to New York. Seeing Danny this way was ... interesting.

She rolled her eyes even as she ran a hand over her extended stomach, over their child as he bumbled his way out the door. "Just wait at the elevator and hold it for me. There's no reason for us to rush."

Distracted, he muttered something as he continued down the hall and she sighed. He had her purse, which meant her keys were with him. Fortunately, he'd left his own in the bowl across the room on the kitchen island.

She pulled her coat on as she walked across the room to get them, but on the way back, stopped and slowly turned around taking in the space, and the details.

Letting herself ... _remember_.

She would miss this place. They had their own apartment now, one with two bedrooms and several awesome closets, near a park and in a great neighborhood. Danny had grown up with two different people who lived in the building, so they had connections there and people he trusted. Even better, on a really good day it would take twenty minutes off their current commute to work.

Still, she'd fallen in love with him here—that smile, that slice of New York in the absolute open, blank bachelor space of his apartment. Compared to what they would have, this was as wide open as Montana. The thought made her smile, even if it was a bit over the top. He'd found her, hadn't he, and romanced her right here, in his own version of Montana. The new place would be a little more cramped, more like the city.

There had been a lot of good days, and more than enough of the bad. There had been healing and hope. A few fights, misunderstandings and all the making up. So many memories. So much love.

She would miss this place.

Miss the pool table that he had already placed on Craig's List.

If, in the future, Lucy ... or anyone else asked why they kept two pool cues and a set of billaird balls in the back of a closet when they didn't have a pool table, she wouldn't have to tell them exactly why. She knew why.

They had already moved some things to the new place. Danny would deal with the rest while she was gone. This was the last time she would see this apartment this way. When she came back home ... she wouldn't come here.

With a sigh, she made herself walk out the door and lock it behind her. For a moment she paused, and for that moment, the sadness slid away. Even if she wasn't coming back here, she was coming home to him. It was simply their future, together, she was walking toward.

Even if he had taken the elevator down without her.

_.ny._

_Crap._

He'd forgotten his keys. He glanced at the bags the cab driver was transfering into the trunk, then up toward his apartment window. He would have to take them back, go up. He hadn't even locked the door. What was he thinking?

"Forget something?"

He lowered his gaze, watched Lindsay exit the building. Her coat, bought in New York, but made for Montana, nearly swallowed her up. She still had room to grow into it. He hurried up the front steps, grabbed her hand simply because he needed that touch. "I know—my keys."

"No–" she laughed at him—and he seriously couldn't blame her. "_Me_."

"I didn't leave you," he grumbled.

"Almost."

"Did you lock up?"

"Do you need another reason to go upstairs, forget what you're doing and second guess yourself all the way down?" she asked as she handed his keys over. "We have plenty of time."

"Just get in the cab, _Montana_."

As the cab headed toward La Gaurdia, Danny turned the new wedding ring around his finger. He felt nervous, like there was a clock ticking, counting down. There were probably dozens of things they needed to talk about, so many things he needed to remind her about.

He turned the ring around his finger again, then again.

"You've got the doctor's number. For here? Your doctor here. You might need—"

"_Danny_. I have the number in my cell phone, my mom and dad have the number and the doctor in Montana has the number. Its listed on the Internet if I were to lose it. And we have the internet in Montana, if you can believe it. If you want me to pass the doctor's number on to my brothers, I would be happy to do so, but I really don't it will help in the long run."

He grimaced and fiddled again with his wedding ring. He watched as she reached over and closed her hand over his. "Do I need to stay behind?"

"No," he shook his head, even as he considered asking her to do so. It was silly, really. It was only two weeks.

And yet, it was like she was taking everything with her.

"All right ... then can I ask again since we're on the subject of doctors. Are you sure, all the way sure, that you want me to find out if we're having a boy or girl?"

He looked over at her, and knew the surprise showed on his face. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because ..." he wasn't surprised when the tears appeared, or that she laughed at herself as she wiped them away with her free hand, "ah ... you won't be there."

He squeezed her hand, as he'd learned to do, and waited out the tears. She wasn't ever really over emotional, so the tears were still something he wasn't used to. Still.

He smiled a little as he thought about their child, their little boy, and all of the reasons the last few months had been so crazy. And amazing.

From the moment he'd found out she was pregnant, he'd wanted to know everything he could about their baby. He craved every little fact or detail or moment. He went to every appointment with Lindsay. He bought the books the doctor recommended and searched the websites they referenced. And he asked questions, listened, and found himself daydreaming over the answers.

He'd wanted to know, and Lindsay had agreed. Which meant their child was keeping it to himself. Lindsay was scheduled for another sonogram for her next visit, which would take place in Montana. Maybe that's because he was insisting that she do it, but he wanted to make sure with the traveling and the flight that they were okay.

"When you find out, you tell me."

"If you're sure."

"Positive." he leaned over, rested his forehead against hers. "Knowing ... it's closer to having him here."

She smiled at him. "Then I'll let you know as soon as I know."

"If ... I could be at a scene or in interview or ..."

"What? You want me to text a dash if its a boy and a circle if its a girl?"

"You're a real comedian today, aren't you _Montana_." Danny pressed their joined hands to her belly. "You hear your mommy? She thinks its pick on daddy day. Why don't you tell us? Hey, little guy? One kick for a girl, two for a boy?"

He chuckled as her stomach rumbled, with no distinct kick, and felt part of his nervousness ease away. "Guess he's keeping us guessing."

"If he's related to you, always. But I think that was me," she muttered. "I'm _starving_."

"Is something else new?"

"Careful, Messer," she leaned over, rested her head on his shoulder. "It's a good thing we have so much time before my flight. Time to eat, time for you to remind me of all the things you've already reminded my family to do that I am more than capable of doing ..."

"I know you're capable ... I just— "

"What?"

"What do you think Mac would say if I followed you onto that plane?"

"It's not what he'd say about you. It's what he'd say about me," she leaned back, looked up at him, and bit her bottom lip as her eyes sparkled. "Unless ..."

"What?"

"Someone happens to see this new side of you. Then he may send you to Montana again just to protect the integrity of the crime lab."

"What's that supposed to mean? Mac didn't send me your way before. That was on me."

She laughed. "Are you sure about that?"


	4. Their Return

_I don't own anything. All the characters belong to CBS and all of the appropriate people—I'm sure they would even claim to own the attendant and the security guard if asked. Spoilers up through Season 5 episode 5x17 … and well, a small, relatively insignificant detail from promotional photos for 5x23. It just got me thinking… do to do._

_It's another Their story ... who knew I had it in me for two? This chapter is dedicated to **Laurzz**, **Stuffy**,** C.P. **and **Brinchen**__, and a special Anna B. thread (all of you) ... as someone there said that even if we don't see this scene, and we probably won't, it had to have happened. But especially Laurzz … because, well … you know …shh … (whispers) …airport. And I didn't think I had it in me to write an airport scene … _

* * *

The airline had offered Lindsay a lift in a wheel chair; one they'd had waiting at the gate when she'd stepped off the plane. The laugh had simply bubbled out of her as she'd looked at the waiting attendant. Seriously? She'd done little for weeks in Montana _but_ walk around.

At her cheerful refusal, she'd simply earned a bland stare from the attendant who was eyeing her with a little trepidation.

Yes, she wanted to say, I'm that pregnant.

If it weren't for Danny, she might have relented. All she could think about was his reaction when she literally pulled up to him confined in a wheel chair. As funny as his reaction might be at first, the drawback was that he would probably be obsessed with it, what put her in it, and that she should be in one all the time.

Besides, she felt fine. Pregnant, definitely. Tired—but she was working for two right now. Stiff. Her ankles felt like they were held in vice grips—possibly the worst part of the plane ride besides trying to figure out how to maneuver in and out of the tiny on board bathroom was the fact that her ankles were even more swollen in air.

She couldn't run, for sure. But she could walk.

She conceded to letting the attendant pull her bag. She hadn't checked any bags as she didn't want to waist any more time than necessary at the airport. She just wanted to get home. She wanted some quiet time with Danny. Her parents had already shipped the baby goods from her showers, and even more was on the way. She'd traded some of her maternity clothes she'd grown out of with one neighbor, and received larger sizes from another.

But all in all, she was coming back with less in her suitcase than she'd taken with her.

As they neared the reception area and stepped on the slow rising escalator, she rested her hand on her belly—on their baby girl. She felt her kick, as if she knew her daddy was near.

Danny.

He was in love with his girl. With his girls, as he would say. Lindsay couldn't help the bubble of laughter that escaped again. For most of her pregnancy, he'd avoided discussion of having a girl, sometimes joking about it, but always seeming surprised when she used the pronouns she and her. Though the sonograms had always been inconclusive, she'd sensed he'd seemed to become more and more sure they were having a boy.

Stella had relayed his logic—and his reaction when he'd received her text. Despite the flaw in his deductive reasoning, she knew he'd not just accepted the fact that it was a girl, but was more than pleased with the idea.

Lindsay just wanted to see his face—see the face of the man that was in love with his baby girl.

The escalator reached the top and she slowly followed the crowd—her personal attendant behind her. She scanned the people, the limo drivers with the signs. The expectant parents, businessmen and random rides waiting behind the roped off area.

And there he was, through the crowd of people, she spotted him.

_Her_ _Danny_.

Tears pricked her eyes as she angled in his direction.

He had yet to see her, and he was looking.

_Just a moment_, she begged, as she continued to fight the sudden urge to cry. She wanted a clear vision. She wanted to take it in.

_Just give me one moment._

She'd missed him. His face . His smile. Even the pure _Danny_ sound in his voice—the soft Staten Island rumble that didn't always come through over the phone. The way he would get a little dreamy when he talked about their baby girl.

She wanted to hear that rumble when he said the name they'd chosen while miles apart. She wanted to hear that when he said he loved her—that he loved them both.

A tear slipped out—she couldn't stop it. She brushed it away with trembling fingertips.

She'd missed his hands, his arms. The way he held her.

And there went another tear.

Still, despite the longing, and the hormones, it was neither of those that brought the tears at the sight of him. At the sight of the soon to be daddy.

Her breath caught at the surprising sob that escaped her sudden burning throat.

"Miss—you'ite?"

Lindsay couldn't respond.

Danny's eyes had found hers. The shock of his blue eyes meeting hers caused another tear to escape.

She couldn't run.

And suddenly, she could barely walk.

But it wasn't just that she missed him. It wasn't just the look in his eyes.

In his hand he held a stuffed pink bunny.

Her Danny—her rough around the edges, New York Prince, was holding a very girly furry pink bunny as naturally as … a man content in his fatherhood.

As naturally as a man who was simply in love, with being a daddy, and with his baby girl.

And the dam of tears broke.

His fingers flexed around said bunny, and he maneuvered around the ropes.

She'd stopped. She couldn't move, couldn't force her legs to take one more step.

"Sir—" someone called, but he ignored them and reached Lindsay in three long strides.

"Babe—" his arms came around her. "You al'ite? In pain?"

"Sir, she wouldn't ride in the chair—" the attendant said.

"I'm fine—" she managed and pushed up on her toes, ignoring the protests from her ankles, and drew him into a kiss.

A kiss that said I'm home.

A kiss that said I'm in love.

And a kiss that revealed in a man who had become a father.

A man who was her own.

_Their_ very own.

* * *

_Whew. I got this idea while sitting in a café-kind of place grading papers … and had to fight against the tears of the Danny in my mind. I don't know if I captured what I felt, but it is what it is. :P Let me know what you think!!!_

I do have to add this … _I didn't think I had it in me to write an airport scene …silly rabbit. It's all the bunny's fault. I would have said it up above, but I didn't want to give it away. And I have no idea if that "silly rabbit" makes any sense to anyone outside of the US … _


	5. Their Reality

For the purpose of this story, PU has not happened yet or just hasn't happened. I took a break from my course work for lunch and Danny and Lindsay joined me. :p Just a really quick oneshot to add to the series. Started off as Their Break. Name changed as the story flushed out. Kind of a double meaning. :)

Enjoy.

* * *

_**Their Reality**_

"Hey-hey."

Lindsay looked up from her solitary sandwich and smiled as Danny wove between the last set of tables before he reached her. "Look who I found."

He slid into the seat next to her and draped and easy arm over the back of her chair. She leaned toward him, offered her lips. He didn't refuse her. It was simple and sweet and all too quick.

"If you would have called, I would have ordered for you."

"Didn't know you were here," he lifted his hand, wove it into the hair that ran behind her neck. It was getting long again, giving freedom to play more with it.

"You going to eat?"

"Flack saw you, volunteered to get it," he nodded toward her half finished sandwich. "You go ahead."

She did, taking a bite, taking her time. She found him watching her. "I missed you last night. Did you get any sleep."

"A little. Kacey said you'd just left, took Lucy out for a little bit so I could grab a few hours. She seemed tired. Lucy, not Kacey. Kacey was her usual bubbly self."

"She was a little restless last night. Refused to settle down until late, didn't sleep well. Lucy, not Kacey," she mimicked him and laughed when he rolled his eyes. She reached up, touched his chin with her finger. "I think she wanted you."

He smiled a little in acknowledgement, for there was little they could do. "Did you get sleep?"

"More than you," she took another bite of her sandwich.

"Bad case?" he asked, noting the serious look in her eyes as she chewed.

"Not so much," she set her sandwich down, sighed. "Just stalled."

"You want to talk about it?"

"Not really." When she looked over at him, he lifted a brow. "I'm pretending."

"Really?"

She reached over, gripped a handful of his shirt, drew him close. "We're not at work right now. It's just you and me and a beautiful New York afternoon."

There was a layer of smog under the cloudy sky. It had spattered rain off and on. "Are you sure you're not delusional?"

"It's _my_ reality."

"And what do we get to do in your reality?" his lips moved, just a fraction from hers.

She smiled into the kiss. For a moment, it _was_ just them. Everyone else, every other sound faded away. He was hers and she was his. Suddenly it seemed like the New York sky opened up into the big and wide Montana sky he'd revealed in on his one time visit.

He changed the angle, deepened the kiss, and felt her sigh.

"You want me to get you guys a room with your meal?"

Danny chuckled into the kiss, and slowly pulled back. His eyes locked with Lindsay's. "That sounded like a certain dark haired detective I know. He in your reality?"

"Right now he's not. He's enjoying a well deserved vacation far far away in Fiji," they looked over at Flack, watched him roll his eyes as he set Danny's meal on the table. "At least for the next twelve minutes. Now where were we?"

He slid his other arm around her, settled it on her waist. "Right where we're supposed to be."


	6. Their Saturday

_I give up and have just fallen to the pressure of my own making that this will continue as a collection of one shots. Of course, now that i've given up the fight, this might be the last point of inspiration :p. Enjoy._

_

* * *

Their Saturday_

"Well, I don't know. We were just doing typical Saturday things."

Across from their witness, sitting on her plush, though slightly worn sofa, Lindsay frowned.

"Could you elaborate, Mrs. Smithson?" she asked.

"Ah—I was in the kitchen, getting the meat ready for the grill. Dave was in the backyard, playing catch with Timmy. Allie was in her room, cleaning," she laughed awkwardly, still very much shaken by the murder that had taken place next door a few days prior. "You know teenagers. They can drag it out all day."

"And your neighbors. The people around here, they know this is your typical Saturday?"

Mrs. Smithson shrugged. "Isn't it for everyone?"

Lindsay looked around. The carpet was clean, but obviously worn. There were dvd cases stacked on the floor by the tv and a multitude of remotes and controllers in piled in a box next to the tv. There was a baseball glove hanging on one of the coat rack arms, rollerblades leaning against the wall by the door.

And family pictures crowded mantles and shelves.

She shook herself, unsure why it made her feel mellow.

"And then?" Flack prodded.

"And then, I stepped outside and called Timmy in. He rushed passed me into the house—thank goodness. I'm just grateful he was already inside," she shook herself, folded her hands as if seeking calm. "And Dave was coming up the steps. I glanced over at the Smith's …"

"Was there any reason?"

"I don't know. I've thought—asked myself that question, but I don't think so. I think it's just habit. Mary and I are … ah were friends. I still—I walked out the door this morning even, looked over, prepared to wave."

"So it was just habit?" Lindsay acknowledged, pushing back the odd sadness. "You walked outside and looked over out of habit."

"I think I was going to wave."

"And you saw?"

"I saw her husband. Her new one. I still think of Larry as her husband. I guess, she should have kept him around, right? It's been a very hard transition," she shook her head. "So sudden you know? Married to one, divorced, and suddenly married to another. I can't say that it was Mary's fault. Larry left and ah—that's not what you asked. I saw Carl. He was yelling. It happened so fast. He was yelling. I frowned, I think. And he raised a gun, started waving it at her. She slapped at it and—"

"Do you know what kind it was?"

"Ah … no. Not… I don't know anything about guns. It was… what do you call it? A handgun. Black. Small."

"Smaller than …" he leaned to the side, unclipped his sidearm, held it out toward her flat against his palm to show her the size. She simply shrugged, more than a little wary as she eyed the piece.

"Maybe. Maybe that size. I think maybe smaller. No, larger. Maybe it was larger? Maybe."

Flack changed tactics. "Maybe if you saw a picture."

"I don't know. We looked on the internet after you asked the last time. Neither Dave or I have grown up or been around guns. We just don't know."

Flack sighed. "The gun went off?"

"No. I don't think so. I don't think it just went off. She slapped it away. It wouldn't have hit her then. No—not when she slapped at it. It wasn't an accident, if that's what you mean. At least, not when she pushed it away." She took a moment, her brow wrinkled as she thought about it. "I didn't see him shoot her though. Dave, my husband—but you know that. You've questioned Dave. He pushed me inside, told me to call 911." She shrugged. "And here you are. And Mary … she's gone. Mary's gone."

It didn't take long. Flack had a few more questions. No, she hadn't seen anyone in or around the house. And yes, they knew to call if they saw someone.

Flack opened the front door, held it for Lindsay to walk through. She stepped out, stood on the front stoop and looked over at the next house. There was a yard. It wasn't so big. The houses were skinny looking, not the sprawling ranch-style house had grown up in, with the land wide and open around her. The houses were old, built long ago when the city had already started to spread out away from the ocean. Even in the suburbs of New York, there was history.

But there was a football lying in the grass on the Smithson's side. It was just a child's toy. She stared down at it, felt another pang of sadness.

"Typical Saturday," she murmured.

Flack snorted. It was a start. She looked at him. His face was still a little pale, the lines were still there around his eyes. Maybe they would always be there. It had been a long time since she'd seen, really seen, his dimples. But he wanted to laugh. He tried.

"Always seemed something creepy to me about the suburbs."

"What?" Lindsay waved a hand toward the lonely football that lay in the yard. "You don't have to find a park. Plenty of room to play in the yard without cars coming down the street next to you. Neighbors who know your name."

"Who watch you all the time. Pay attention to your business. _Kill _each other."

She smiled. "Some might call the friendly. Besides the killing. Besides, we have neighbors, even nosy ones, in the city."

"It's different. Seems a little wrong to be looking in people's windows just to wave hello. I call that something for _peeping tom's._"

"Said neighbors, peeping or not, have made our job easier."

The Smithson's had called the police, had seen the gun being waved. The man across a street, a Mr … Berry, had seen Carl, the new husband, carrying a large trunk to his car. Carl, of course, said he was moving out. But he hadn't told them where to find said trunk to prove his innocence.

The body was theirs because it had been dumped in the city.

But the suburbs, Lindsay mused as Flack drove back to the city, just seemed so foreign. Too close together for her new city-dwelling existence, yards too small for the ranching girl she'd been born.

And yet, there was an ache inside that she couldn't explain. Maybe it was the toys and the football. Maybe it was the family.

But it wasn't the house, or the yard. It was just … an ache.

.ny.

"It looks like there's something on the shoulder," Lindsay squinted at the shirt Danny was processing. He turned it, studied the mark.

He ran his fingers over the shirt he'd already processed. She'd suggested they look again and he'd gone along with it. It seemed the least he could do to help her … deal with whatever had set her on edge. Better than a good fight. Actually, he didn't mind a good fight, but he hated them at work.

He dutifully studied the mark on the shirt. They had two witnesses, but no confession, weapon or trunk. If they could find either of the latter, they might have a confession.

And if they couldn't, even with the witness, their man might just end up out on bail.

He ran his finger over the mark, watched the frayed threads bounce. "Yeah, there's a tare here. We've already documented it."

"No, the…" she made a sound, something like a growl, and reached for the shirt. "Just let me do it."

He nearly held on, but let go, watch her all but manhandle the fabric. When she slapped it down on the table, he decided to step in, save the evidence. Fight or no fight.

"Linds. What's wrong with you?"

"With me?" She didn't look at him. Instead, she ran her fingers over the tare, then switched to go over the buttons, fingering them in clipped, frustrated beats.

"Yeah—you've been on edge all afternoon."

"We're trying to process and you're over there lollygagging."

"I'll be gagging something."

"You want to do this yourself?" she asked and thrust the shirt back into his hand.

"At the moment?" He nearly spat something else out, but she looked at him. Really looked up at him and he finally got a good look in her brown eyes. It wasn't just frustration or something edgy swirling. There was misery.

"Linds," he set the shirt down, reached out to her and took each of her arms in her hands. It was the closest they could get on the job. "What's wrong?"

For a moment she just looked at him, for a moment a little lost.

"Nothing."

When he lifted an eyebrow she shrugged and looked away. "I'm sorry, you're right. I don't know. I've just felt … off center all afternoon."

"We're about as done as we can be here. Why don't you go grab something to drink, take a breather, close down? Take some time. We're not going to catch this guy if we can't think straight."

She bit her lip. He knew she hesitated because she just worked hard when she was on shift. She could be playful, but she didn't play. "Why don't we do something tonight? You could call a sitter, arrange something for Lucy, and we could go out. Just me and you."

When she bristled, he sighed. "Or you, me and Lucy," he said hopefully. "Or I can take Lucy out and give you some time alone."

"I've had enough time alone," she muttered, then let out a self-depreciating growl. "Just—"

She shrugged off his hand and walked away.

As she left, Danny watched her go, loosely holding onto the shirt they really hadn't needed to look at in the first place. Everything had been fine this morning. Breakfast, laughter, little time for much else, but it had been a sweet little moment in his day.

He wished he had some idea what has happened.

And running his thumb back and forth over the shirt, he felt it—and odd difference in texture, even through the thin layer of his latex glove. An element of trace invisible to the eye. He held it up, studied it, and saw nothing. But he had a feeling he would catch it under the blue light.

Maybe Lindsay's perception hadn't been so far off at all.

"_Boom_."

.ny.

By the time Danny had arrived home, they'd pretty much constructed their case around Carl, the husband in question. The trace he'd found on the sleeve had been an experimental herbicide from a grant program at Chelsea University. It had been recently used near a landfill where the body of Mary the neighbor had been located, along with the missing trunk, buried in different areas along the lay of the land.

Thank goodness dogs could tell the difference between trash and the stench of decomp.

He unlocked the door to their apartment and stepped in, half expecting to find the room dark and Lindsay curled up on the sofa. Instead, the lights were on, music was booming from the stereo, and Lindsay was in the kitchen, stirring something in a big pot. He recognized the scent—one of his mother's recipes, he thought.

Looked like he was going to get a good meal tonight. Maybe even an apology. He didn't need one, not this time, he was just glad she was all right.

But there were benefits to the apology.

She looked over at him, smiled a small smile. Wasn't a full on Lindsay smile, but it was better.

He laughed—he couldn't help it and walked over to where Lucy baby talked away in her playpen. He scooped her up and in one swift motion lifted her high up above his head so that she giggled.

"So, how are my girls this evening?"

"Ashamed," Lindsay said. She tapped the metal spoon against the pot and set it on the spoon rest. "Or at least, _I _am."

"You shouldn't be … at least not once you hear that your _spidey_ sense was pretty much on the mark. Or maybe it's just a mommy-sense, right Lucy-girl? Your mommy has incredible sensing ability, right?" he nuzzled his daughter's nose with his own as Lindsay laughed. It was good to hear that sound. "Guess where we found the piece of trace that led us to the missing evidence?"

He had her full attention now. "Not on the shirt?"

Holding onto Lucy, he sat down across the bar from Lindsay, and relayed the portion of the case she'd missed as she finished dinner.

When he told her of how Flack had walked into interrogation with the trunk and its distinctive foul odor, and plopped it on the table in front of Carl, she laughed.

"Oh, I wish I'd been there to see that."

As she dished up their meal, Danny lay a sleepy Lucy down in her play pen, then met Lindsay at the table. She set the plates down and turned into him, leaned into him. She sighed softly as he slid his arms around her.

"I want a Saturday," the words just fell out of her.

"Well, one's coming up in a few days."

"And I'm on call. You have to work."

Danny frowned. "You mean you want a vacation?"

She stepped back from him. She rubbed her hands together, a sign that a little of the agitation she'd lost had returned.

"No, I just …" she stopped, licked her lips as she processed her thoughts. "The witness today, Mrs. Smithson. She just kept saying they were doing the typical Saturday thing, as if everyone did those things. Grilling, playing in the yard, talking to the neighbors while the kids cleaned their rooms or helped fix lunch. There was a football in the yard and they had patio furniture and a swing set in the backyard."

"You want to move to the suburbs?" He couldn't help the horror in his voice. The idea seemed … too horrid to imagine. Swing sets were for parks. Grass had to be cut. Neighbors ... he didn't mind neighbors, but why deal with a yard when you could just walk two doors down?

"No …" she looked at him, must have caught the look on his face, and managed to laugh. "No, I just want …"

"The family time."

"I want _our_ family time. I didn't really get it until I got home and I found myself looking at pictures of my family. The ranch work never ended and didn't stop for Saturdays either. But we made time to just be a family. It's like all we do is scoot in and out and barely meet in the middle."

The image she painted, of them passing each other in the apartment, was all to real. The need for more was there, opening displayed, in her brown eyes. A plea, and heart string. It tugged at his heart, reminded him of his own need and dissatisfaction.

Hadn't he, on the last Saturday, as they sat down to play with Lucy on the rug, felt it when Lindsay had been called to a scene?

He reached out, cupped her face with his fingers. She leaned into it, and then stepped back toward him, into his embrace. He smiled, kissed the top of her head. "We'll figure something out."

"It's not just for us," she muttered, a twinge of desperation in her voice.

"No," he agreed softly. It was for Lucy, too.

.ny.

Danny talked to Mac. They wouldn't and couldn't have an entire day off together—not every week. But he did arrange it so they got the best part of a day, whether the morning and into the afternoon, or the best part of the afternoon.

For their first "Saturday—" a _Tuesday _morning—they took Lucy out to Conney Island, spread out a blanket on the sand, and enjoyed what Danny assumed the normal crowd would call a brunch. For them, it was just breakfast.

The waves lapped against the shore and preformed the background music as they laughed, talked and were startled alert when Lucy ate a clump of New York sand. They both _freaked out_ just a little. Well, maybe more than a little.

Still, it couldn't have been more perfect.

They did what they could, when they could.

And they enjoyed being a family.

At all times.

* * *

_:P I've gotten this far thanks to the inspiration from the reviews. So ... thank you._


	7. Their Office Space added 71410

Their Office Space

Hi! Here's another one shot. It started out as another 'their' story, but turned into this one and is absolute fluff. But why not, right? Dedicated to Lilymoonlight because of the appearance just for her in this story. Refers back to the episode where Lindsay leaves to go back to Montana in season 3. I swear I'll think of the title after I post. Lol. (The Lying Game! ~ha ha). This one goes in between their announcement and their return.

* * *

Danny sat alone in his office. It was quiet. Quieter than normal. On any given day, four to five days a week, Lindsay would also be on the schedule, and there was always a chance she could walk through those doors. She was rarely ever out, sick, or on leave.

Unless she was in _Montana_.

Both times the office had taken on the feel similar to the morgue on a holiday, when they were down to the bare staff.

He looked across the small space at Lindsay's chair. It was pushed up against the desk, where she'd placed it after taking forever to leave with him. _Right_. She was the one in a hurry. She needed to get home and pack. _She'd _been the one to double check everything, go back over everything, before finally leaving the building and even then, he wanted to drag her out the door.

He'd stood there, watching, hoping and so nervous he was afraid she would see right through to his plans. It was a good thing she was distracted.

Because she was leaving.

He looked at her desk. When she was in the middle of something, she liked to spread things out. He wasn't sure if there was ever a rhyme or reason to any of it—but she seemed to think so. Right now, it was neat. Too neat. So un-Lindsay.

He pushed up and walked over to her desk and opened her drawer. He took a few pens out, put them on the top, there placement haphazard on top of the lines of the calendar. Out of the side drawer, he took out her mug, put it to the back where she would set it when she was working. Then he turned the computer on. At least if her screen saver was running, her desk wouldn't seem so ... _still. _He openned another drawer.

At the knock on the door, he jumped, looked up as Stella poked her head in. "Did you reach Larry Marks?"

"I was just about to try again," Danny said and glanced over at his phone on his desk. The folder was open to the first page. He hadn't actually tried the first time. He'd been distracted.

Stella lifted a knowing eyebrow. "Odd that this office feels a bit empty, doesn't it?"

He laughed slightly. "Yeah."

"Odd she never moved into with Hawkes when Rossetti moved out. Bigger space. Nicer furniture."

Danny ran a hand over the back of his neck and winced. They'd moved into the former offices of Rossetti's specialized crime unit, and he'd been the last member of that team to leave. Danny hadn't actually told Lindsay that she could, though it probably had been his responsibility. She'd been placed in his office, under his responsibility while she was the newbie, but the intention had been to give her more room later whenher probationary period was over.

"I guess it doesn't matter, now though. It worked out."

"Yeah," he looked down at his ring and couldn't help but smile.

"Let me know what you find out." Stella stopped herself from leaving and leaned back in. "Maybe you should give Lindsay a call, she if she can help you find it."

"What?"

Stella shrugged. "Whatever you're looking for."

When the office was empty again, the silence a heavy pulse, Danny pulled out Lindsay's chair and sat down with a heavy sigh. No, he'd never told her that their office situation was only temporary. She would have moved out when everything fell apart last year if she'd known otherwise. And there really wasn't any point in telling her now.

Still, he pulled out his phone needing to tell her something, anything, and smiled a little. Technically, he'd just been given permission by his boss to call Lindsay during work hours.

It took her two rings to pick up. He could see her, pulling the phone out of her pocket, checking the display.

"Hey," she said, "how's work?"

"Same old. Tedious. _Quiet_."

"In New York City?" she laughed, "If you want quiet, you should come here. You can actually feel it. I nearly called my old boss to see if I could help out."

"Aren't you supposed to be resting?"

"No, I'm supposed to be seeing my family, spending time with my family, and taking care of myself and our little girl. And as my mother reminds me constantly, I won't have time to be bored when the baby comes. What are you supposed to be doing?"

"Making phone calls."

"Not to me, I suspect."

"Stella told me to," he said. "Scouts honor. She thought maybe you would know where it was."

"Where what is?"

"I don't know. She thought I was looking for something."

"And you weren't?"

Danny sighed. He'd backed himself in a corner. "Not exactly. So you don't know where it is?"

"I don't even know _what _it is." She was laughing at him, but he didn't mind so much. "Danny, are you okay?"

"No. But I've got less than two weeks. Counting down, _Montana._"

"So am I."

As he said goodbye and ended the call, he looked around the office that had been crowded since the day she had moved in. Now, on most days it wasn't just crowded.

It was full.

With her voice in his head, he pushed up and headed back to his desk. He had some phone calls to make.

He'd have to tell Stella that Lindsay had helped him find it.

Whatever it was.

* * *

So, I've always wondered why Lindsay was putting the envelope for Danny on an odd desk and not _his_ desk in _their_ office ... or maybe I've miss viewed that scene. But that office in that scene, where Hawkes catches her, seems bigger than the one she shares with Danny. At least in my memory. So, if I've got it all wrong, then we'll just pretend Hawkes has some other swanky office fit for a king. :p And if you're like ? why this scene? Because, it's where I ended up, lol! Danny was thinking about Lindsay, and all of the sudden he was thinking about her office. In the other story that wasn't written, Mac _and_ Stella were making an appearance, but I think this one fit Stella just fine! Hopefully, eventually, the other story will get written. Its a post Communication Breakdown moment, but I think now it's moving out of the office and onto the street below. Until I actually try to write it! Okay, now I'm just really talking to myself. And Psych's on.


	8. Their Relief: added 82810

**Their Relief**

I kidded someone the other day about still being in Season 5 ... and ah ... I suppose so am I. This was supposed to be an attempt to move into season 6, though as you'll see, it's not all that successful. Though I do make a little reference into season six, episode two or three, I think. I suppose though, it would be funnier the other way around. But I still couldn't help but put the line in there.

This one is currently in the right place, I think. Takes place between Pay Up and Epilogue, a little play on sounds.

* * *

The hospital echoed the reverberation of a heartbeat. Nothing else mattered, no other sound came through. There was simply the deep thud, slow, memorizing. The pump of life. The jump of closure. The beat, steady. The tremble, always there.

She heard nothing else. No one else.

A heartbeat. The pulse, the push of life, the fall toward darkness.

Ba dum. Ba dum... Ba dum.

She felt ... empty.

It was hard to believe, so very hard, to know that it had been less than a day since she'd called Danny and told him about Jessica, since she'd sent him on a course to the hospital, a different one, for Flack. They'd held out hope, had believed ...

Danny.

He'd known something was wrong immediately, from the sound of her voice.

The next time he saw her, he'd simply walked up to her in the diner, wrapped his arms around her and breathed her in.

And it had been hard to know that they could find comfort in each other, when they knew Don had lost so much. His comfort, his laughter. His smile.

Now ...

Lindsay let the beat of the heart surround her. She focused on it. Danny's blood was under her fingernails. She looked down at them, ran a tip of her finger over the darkening line.

Darkness ... that thud of the heart.

She could lose him. She could very well lose him.

The thud of the heart, the rise of the beat she heard it. It was all she heard.

And it was her own. She didn't want her own. She wanted to be able to lean in, to simply curl into him, and listen to his. She was drowning, simply dropping off into the abyss, the sound of her own heart beat deepening, taking her into the dark.

She pushed out of the chair.

Gasped out for air.

"Lindsay-"

It was Mac. That voice of authority, drawing her back. Ordering her.

She felt his arm draw her close to his side. She leaned against him and briefly closed her eyes, took a deep breath. She was going to keep it together. The moment of panic earlier, as she'd remembered that Lucy was with the babysitter, was bad enough.

To her left, Stella's warm fingers wrapped around her hand. She opened her eyes, studied Stella's hand, the ring on her finger.

And still thought of Danny.

"I can't think. Stell-I can't process this."

"Danny's going to be okay."

She tried to concentrate on the feel of Mac's arm around her. He was strong, so much like her father. Like Danny. She forced herself to smile, or to try to smile.

Linds, I can't feel my legs. I can't move my legs.

She hadn't lost him, she wouldn't lose him as Don had lost Jessica. He'd been alive, lucid, even when they'd pushed him away on the gurney. She'd stayed ...maybe not calm, she'd been anything but calm on the inside. But she'd kept herself in the present, with him, making sure he stayed there with her.

As if she'd had a choice.

At what cost would he come back to her? Danny ... he had such a hard time with doing things on when it meant asking for help. He found such joy in the discovery, in being the one to discover. And the last time he faced loss ...

"He fought for you, Lindsay," she turned and looked at Mac, blinked when she saw him there. "He fought for you and Lucy, from the moment he knew about Lucy. He was there my your side, making sure that you knew how much he wanted to work for the two of you, making sure of a lot of things. He's going to fight now."

Lindsay looked down, at her wedding band, heard Danny's voice and his words ...

You're everything I've always wanted. I want to be with you. And I can be the guy that you want me to be...

You better, Messer, because all she needed was for him to be there, to be alive.

"He better," she pushed back the lump in her throat as she leaned back in the seat, "or he'll have me to deal with."

"That's why he loves you."

She smiled, and looked up as a doctor came into the waiting room. Her hand wrapped around Stella's, Lindsay stood sandwiched and protected.

She took a step forward, let Stella's hand drop. It was time to be strong.

"Mrs. Messer, your husband came through surgery ...

And that, she thought, even as the doctor rumbled on about swelling and waiting, was all that mattered.

You're everything I want, Daniel Messer. Don't you dare let me down.

* * *

There was an echo of machines. The whirl of something, the beep that monitored his heart.

It wasn't his heart he worried about.

He'd been in and out of consciousness, the drugs making him feel loopy and weakened, but it was as if he was more aware of what he didn't feel. There had been no change. Maybe they'd stopped the bleeding, retrieved the bullet.

But he couldn't feel.

No, it wasn't his heart ... it was her heart. She was there with him, and would be with him, but at what cost? How could he be the father he needed to be for Lucy? The man she needed him to be ... how could he be her husband?

He could still remember the moment Lucy had been born, his first sight of her, the sound of her cry. He'd turned to Lindsay, overwhelmed as he looked from one to the other, overwhelmed with love for his girls. She was his heart. Right there, that moment, it flashed. And emotion as hot and as viral as lighting.

You're beautiful. They were so beautiful. He'd said it, the emotion letting words out in a way he'd never imagined.

He'd finally gotten them home, to their new home—complete now with his daughter finally in her crib, in her mother's arms, and in his arms. They'd tried to sleep that first night, but kept getting up, laughing at themselves, just to check one more time. Just to ... look, for one more look.

That first day when he'd had to go back to work and leave them there, he'd stopped at the front door and looked back to sofa where Lucy slept in Lindsay's arms. He'd delayed as long as he could, and still he was reluctant to leave. His wife and child ... he would have taken a picture with his phone, but he already had done so a half dozen times that morning.

Lindsay looked over at him and smiled. "We'll be here when you get back, daddy."

He'd smiled then, even as he did so now. They'd been there, even after he'd called home a dozen or more times that day.

The pulse of the heart monitor brought him back. He shook his head, shook off the smile; what had to be a goofy smile. With the drugs. And yeah, the memory.

Years ago, he would have called himself crazy, laughed at the man he'd become ... now, he just knew ... whatever it was he didn't have the words to say. Was it love? It seemed like so much more. Maybe it was crazy to love like this, but it was right.

He heard the sounds of nurses passing his door. He thought of Lucy at the lab, of Blake—the idiot—who thought he was so good with children, and the way Lindsay had put herself in the middle of the two a few days after the original incident. He hadn't intended for it to become an incident. Not really.

And she'd been on Blake's side.

That look in her eyes as she came to Blake's aid was her sword. It was a look that delighted him more than anything else. From that first day they met, when she'd squared off with him, he'd been drawn to that particular pointed look. It didn't matter that it was his fault then. He found some pride in the fact that he'd brought that out of her so early in their relationship, and then so often.

And if she knew how to square off with him now and win, it only turned him on even more.

"Hey–" he looked over as the door closed behind Lindsay. She been home, he thought, long enough to shower and bring back a bag with her. She'd pulled her hair up into a ponytail, wore a clean t-shirt and yoga pants. She looked fresh, unless you looked her in the eye.

"You weren't supposed to wake up until I got back."

He smiled, because she wanted him too–he knew. It wasn't so hard as he'd been on the edge of smiling.

She set down her bag as she sat down, then grabbed his hand. He curled his fingers through hers.

"Sorry—I never should have sent Adam after my breast pump. I figured Hawkes would help him out ... that someone would be able to get what was needed. And then Hawkes made me take a shower ... because it would be better for you, if I did. He played that right. I tried to hurry," She tilted her head to the side. "And I suppose you are grateful. If Flack ..." the laughter in her voice died away, "well, I'm not sure he would have been any better."

"How is he?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. He's on leave. He went off somewhere, he came by here briefly. It know it was hard for him, but he came by to see you, told me not to worry. He was okay. He doesn't look okay. And of course, I'm worried."

Danny shifted, adjusted, and fought against the urge to scream as the concern for Flack hit against the state of his legs. "I should ..."

He couldn't think, couldn't process it all. He felt Lindsay's fingers squeeze around his, and he looked over, looked into her brown eyes.

And was reminded of the moment he realized that he didn't mind so much that he'd fallen for her—the moment they'd sat outside Louie's hospital room and listened to the tape. She hadn't wanted him to be alone, had come back after that, after her shift to stay with him. She'd stayed, like Flack.

"I should try and call him."

"You can try."

"Where's my phone?" he shook his head. "In evidence."

"I don't know ... but I can give you this back," she brightened a little, reached into her pocket and drew out his ring. "Mac may have taken your personal items, but there's not really anything in them that will help with the case. They did give me your ring. They took it off before the surgery."

He smiled as he watched her put it on, watched her slender hands slide the ring on his finger. They weren't elegant. She'd worked on a ranch for much of her life, and she worked now. They were strong, and ... hers. They were uniquely her hands and just knowing that, gave him comfort.

"So you went home."

"Yeah. Stella took me back, the shower, all of that. I needed to see Lucy, get a little pump in ..." she gestured to herself. "I needed to see her and ... Danny, I forgot all about her. When we got to the hospital, I just didn't think. What kind of mom does that make me?"

"Since you were thinking of her father, it makes both of us really lucky."

She smiled, and still holding his hand, leaned over and rested her head on the bed beside him, her eyes still on his. "That's what Hawkes said. He was really great considering I sort of let loose in a panic on him when I remembered Lucy and the babysitter. Her mom was with her, by the way. Someone called her, said they heard it all on the news. But I didn't know that."

"And that's how Hawkes ended up with Lucy."

"Yeah. He's still there. Your mom's down in the chapel and my mom's on her way in. He's going to stay until she gets here."

Danny grimaced. "Not the way we wanted them to meet. My mom, your mom, I mean. I'm sure Hawkes can handle himself."

"Have we ever planned for them to meet?" she asked on a half laugh. "My mom, your mom. Hawkes will have my mom charmed in all of five seconds."

No, they probably hadn't, he thought, though they had talked about it, they'd never really planned it. They hadn't planned for a lot of things. But the one thing that had always been true, even when he hadn't wanted it to be so—is that Lindsay was there for him, without planning to be there.

"We've spent a lot of time in hospitals."

"Yeah. I'm thinking of locking you up for the month of May. We're only days away from the anniversary of that first time after the warehouse."

"That wasn't the first time," he corrected. "The first time it wasn't me, and it wasn't in May. Usually it's the guy her forgets this stuff."

"I didn't have to visit or take you to the hospital before you stood up to the Irish mob."

"No–we were at the hospital. Not in. You were here with me, with Louie, and then with Flack ... though, I suppose that was in May. And you were the one hurt that time. In May."

Lindsay grinned, her head still resting on her arm. It was easy to return the smile this time. There was just something so endearing, watching her watch him just like that.

"Where you kissed me for the first time."

"I think you were the one who kissed me," he reminded her.

"I kissed you first, but you still kissed me back for the first time. I'd thought of kissing you enough in the past. You finally did something about it ... even if it took me doing more about it first."

"And that logic, somehow, is what makes you a great forensic scientist."

"Maybe," she grinned and that dimple flashed, "but I totally missed the clues when you tricked me into staying too long the next time we were at the hospital."

Danny frowned. "Why did I—oh, because you started to scoot out when my mother arrived. And that didn't make sense anyway. She'd already met you, with Louie."

"Its entirely different meeting a mother when you're a coworker, and when you're the girlfriend. And I was really kind of new at being the girlfriend."

Danny laughed. "I'd agree, except she knew you weren't just a coworker the first time she met you. And she always liked you. And besides, it worked. With her attention on you, she took her attention off me ..."

Took her attention off the fact he was hurt. Again.

Lindsay drew his hand toward her and pressed her lips to his knuckle. And for a moment, when her eyes closed, and she held her hand so stiff, he saw the worry and the panic.

He drew his hand from hers and ran his fingers over her hair, pushed out the band that held it in a ponytail. It was longer now, as she'd had time off with Lucy. She was talking about cutting it again—and she would, he knew. Still, there was comfort as he curled his fingers, felt the strands of hair.

"Thank you," he murmured.

She opened her eyes, slowly pushed herself up. His hand ran down, traced the line of her cheek.

"For being here. Every time. But especially now."

"Where else would I be?"

"Well, when I woke up ..." but he couldn't maintain the joke. "I can't feel my legs, Lindsay. I can't promise you that I can do all the things you're going to—"

"Danny, what makes you my husband ... what makes you my best friend, has nothing to do with your legs." She bit her lip, a sign she was thinking, and took his hand back, holding it between both of hers. "Now ... if they'd taken your eyes ..."

She shook her head as he laughed. "Sorry—I don't even mean that. I just need you. You were everything I needed that day you showed up in Montana. I was cold, lost, unable to move forward ... I was held back and ... held in by a stupid, senseless act. And you saved me, by walking through those doors in that day. By drawing that part of me out, that part that was stuck inside. Afraid. What it was that you were to me then, and are to me now, is there when I look at you, when I look you in the eye. It was the hardest part of losing you last year. You wouldn't look me in the eye. And now ..." she swallowed, drew his hands back to her lips and planted another kiss there, "all I need is to see your eyes. That soul of Danny Messer that somehow turned toward me. That loves me. I need that."

It was hard to smile, but he couldn't help it. It simply bloomed, though it trembled. He turned his hand enough to grasp hers. "I need you, Montana. I'm scared."

"Same goes, Messer."

"Help me move over—"

"Danny—"

"I just need to hold onto you. And I think you need me to hold on to you. It's not going to hurt. In fact, I think the doctor prescribed it."

Though she rolled her eyes, she didn't argue. She simply stood and did as he asked.

It took longer than it should have, but even as the impatience broiled, she was curling up to his side. He drew her in close, closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the heart monitor, even as she listened to his heart.

And he felt, they felt, relief.


	9. Their RSVP added 83110

So this is dedicated to ... lets go back and see... **afrozenheart412** (who does a great job writing these shorts-and these are as short as I could get them!) who asked to see what the people said or thought! I hesitate to put this up because I don't get in the head well of the other characters. Not looking for comments on that, particularly, but I would love to hear them if you have them. and I can fix anything if you have a suggestion. Its about growth, right? Also **NothatRose** who also does a great job with shorts.

Fits in between Their Announcement (happens at the sending of the picture) and I think Their Office Space, overlapping Their Goodbyes by accident. I couldn't help it! Somethings have to be done. :p.

Hope you enjoy. Not mine. At all.

* * *

Don was grinning when Angell pushed through the doors into the bullpen, not at her, but at the photo on his cell. She knew it was a photo as the beep of her phone had made her pause long enough to check it before she entered the station.

She walked through the buzz, felt the sense of celebration from some of the officers around her. A case, she thought, that had been closed. One more success. There was a spark to the talk, laughter in he air.

And in the midst of it all, her friends were happy.

"Look at those two," he said as she came up, without looking up from the picture. "Messer finally got Monroe."

"Messer got Monroe. I like that," she leaned on his arm, looked at the photo and smiled.

It meant that Lindsay had learned to believe in them again, and it had been hard on her to not believe. She looked settled now. So it was a statement for both of them.

"They look happy."

"Yeah. Look at that goofy mug of his," he shook his head. "You should have seen this place a few minutes ago. Half the phones here went off at the same time. I swear there was money that changed hands."

He cleared the message, started to hit send. Jessica reached over, closed the phone. "Don't you dare."

"Don't what?"

"Call them."

"They sent a picture."

"Not just to us. They just got _married_, Don," she said succinctly. "That would make this their _wedding _night. You can't call him. Either of them."

"Their wed ... She's having his baby, Jess. It's not like ... man, she's _leaving _tomorrow," Don shoved the phone in his pocket. "He's going to be insufferable now."

Angell grinned. Don so rarely pouted, she couldn't help be amused. And he was right. Danny was going to drive them all a little crazy until Lindsay returned, if only because he was just a little off his game. But Angell liked that, and loved the idea that Danny had fallen so hard.

He was a good guy.

"Come on ... we should celebrate for them."

"Celebrate. How?"

She slid her arm through his. "I've got a few ideas."

"Can you tell me in French?"

She laughed. "Maybe. RSVP is French."

"We don't have to think of them while we're celebrating."

"No."

.ny.

Sheldon Hawkes was with Sid in autopsy, looking at the strange markings that had come in on a corpse that morning. Sid had already figured out the answers, and it showed how much he needed a life that Hawkes had been drawn down to the morgue to take a look.

He knew it, and even thought it, but he couldn't help but take that look.

Their phones went off within seconds of each other. Hawkes pulled his out, grinned when he saw the picture.

"Well, its about time," Sid said, who was looking at his own phone.

"Yeah. Messer and Monroe got married." He shook his head. "Didn't ever think I'd see this day."

"Oh, it was bound to happen. He just needed to wear her down," Sid shut his phone.

"But Messer? Seems to me she wore a little of the edge off of him."

"Not so much her doing. I don't think Lindsay's ever expected him to be anything other than himself. And that's what attracted him I think." Sid shrugged. "Danny's always been searching for something. That was the restlessness, a lot of it, that kept him from settling down. He found her, he stopped searching."

Hawkes couldn't argue with his logic, but frowned as he looked at the corpse.

"You've stopped searching." This was from Sid to him.

Hawkes looked up, though he shouldn't have been surprised that Sid had known what he was thinking. They'd known each other for a long time. And Sid Hammerbeck was ... Sid Hammerbeck after all.

Sid laughed at the look on Sheldon's face as he slid the phone in his picket, then tugged his glasses apart. "You could use a little unsettling, Dr. Hawkes, if you don't mind me saying. You settled. You should start looking again, find you a girl and get yourself out of the morgue."

When Sid's phone buzzed, he pulled it from his pocket, a smile on his face. "That would be mine. Lindsay probably sent her a picture too."

As Hammerbeck fell into the conversation with his wife, Hawkes shook his head and turned from the table to leave. Sid was right. He needed to get out of the morgue, start moving on. Maybe he had settled.

There had been a girl ... and now ...

As he hung up his lab coat, Hawkes pulled his phone back out and brought up the picture again. He hoped Lindsay knew what she'd gotten herself into. Still, it didn't really worry him, the fact that those two were together. She could handle it, and handle him.

That she'd already proven.

.ny.

Mac was crouched down by a body at a crime scene when his phone went off. He pulled it out, grinned at the picture—held it so Stella could see, so they could look together. She slid her phone in her pocket, and simply looked at his.

"Its good to see them both so happy," she murmured. "And with the Empire State Building in the back."

"You know he'd asked her to marry him the first time the day we went up on the top of that," Mac said. "He was unsettled. She'd turned him down. He'd already taken one leap that day. Being up there..." Mac laughed. "You could just see him—he couldn't hide his thoughts from any of us."

"Not from you."

"Lindsay's pretty good at reading him. She'll get better."

Stella chuckled. "It's going to be a long two weeks, Mac."

"I think I'm going to enjoy them."

"That's only because you see yourself as tthe matchmaker."

Mac only laughed, and returned to his corpse.

.ny.

Melba Grace, receptionist for the crime lab had stopped to get a few groceries. When she got Lindsay's picture, she couldn't help but show it to three other people and tell them about the day Lindsay Monroe walked into the crime lab and got her first assignment, and how she'd known Danny was going to get a good kick in the pants.

Danny's mother had just finished putting supper on the table. She pulled out her phone and grinned, showing it to her husband. He frowned over it, confused as to why it was blocking his view of the news.

"They got married."

His eyebrows lifted. "Danny?"

"You knew he was going to ask her."

"He didn't say anything to me."

She muttered something in Italian. He grinned. She shook her head.

"I'm just glad he told us this time."

And when Lindsay's mother got the picture, she immediately picked up the phone to call her daughter. Instead, she got her new son-in-law's voicemail and sighed. _Men_.

She had enough of them in her house.

_Hi. You've reached Lindsay Messer's phone. She won't be answering your call tonight as tonight is our _wedding _night. Leave her a message. She'll have plenty of time to return your call once she's in Montana..._

She closed the phone with a smile on her lips. Her baby girl was coming home. She could get the details later.

Eventually she would get the son-in-law to visit as well.

Lindsay's brothers got the picture. None of them were happy. And they weren't happy that they got his greeting on her phone. So they left a message. All three of them.

.ny.

Only Adam, who had been up half the night playing on his Playstation, was able to congratulate Danny as soon as he found out. They were standing in trace, side by side, waiting on the computer to toss out results. Danny was in a mood, but everyone in the lab had been prepared for it.

Since he couldn't get Danny to have a conversation, Adam pulled out his phone to call for something else entirely, and saw that he had a half dozen texts.

"Hey, congratulations, man," he said as he looked at the picture.

"Yeah," Danny murmured.

When Adam looked up, Danny's eyes were on the picture. He looked a little lost.

Adam simply handed him the phone, let him stay lost in his thoughts.

As he walked out of the room he ran into Mac.

"Have you seen Danny?"

"Ah yeah. He's about to call Lindsay."

"Really."

Some things were obvious enough that even the socially awkward scientist could just know.

* * *

Let me know what you think! XD


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